


Glossy Double Cover Spread

by Omni



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Barebacking, Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek, College, M/M, Model Derek Hale, Model Stiles, Modeling, Oblivious Stiles, Pining Derek, underwear model au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 17:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omni/pseuds/Omni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Derek finds out exactly how Stiles has been able to afford the tuition for his fancy private college, he becomes a touch...obsessed.  </p><p>To be fair, the ads are available to anyone who buys the magazines, so it's totally not weird or creepy at all that he keeps a box of them under his bed.</p><p>And if he's asked to be a model, as well, who will happen to work alongside Stiles in shoots, well...that's purely coincidence.  He's been meaning to get a job, anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glossy Double Cover Spread

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhoNatural](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhoNatural/gifts).



> I blame WhoNatural (aka derek-tion on tumblr) and her evil, evil influence. EVIL.
> 
> Also, the title comes from the song "Three Small Words" in the Josie and the Pussycat's movie that goes:  
> "A glossy, double cover spread  
> Opened up inside your head.  
> A black cherry paradise,  
> Half the sugar, twice the spice.  
> I don't wanna treat you nice.  
> Come on baby, roll the dice!"
> 
> ...because it kept getting stuck in my head while I wrote this, shut up.
> 
> EDIT:  
> [bilesandthesourwolf](http://bilesandthesourwolf.tumblr.com) made some manips inspired by this fic!   
> [Part 1](http://bilesandthesourwolf.tumblr.com/post/54735911876/inspired-by-omnis-glossy-double-cover-spread)  
> [Part 2](http://bilesandthesourwolf.tumblr.com/post/54735995016/inspired-by-omnis-glossy-double-cover-spread)

At first no one knew how Stiles was paying for college. He'd had a couple scholarships, sure, but he'd elected to go to a small private college not far from Beacon Hills, and its tuition was nothing to sneeze at. If anyone asked him about it, he'd blush a bit and offer up generic phrases like, "Oh, you know, work and stuff." His father was also no help. Whenever one of Stiles' friends asked him if he knew what kind of job Stiles had to be able to pay off all the fees, the Sheriff would just bite the inside of his cheek and look as though he was trying not to laugh. At least that meant it wasn't anything shady.

It was Isaac who first stumbled upon the truth.

Derek had just gotten home, when the beta was suddenly right in front of him, holding something behind his back and looking conflicted. "Let's say, hypothetically," Isaac started, which didn't bode well. Few things did that started with those words. "Um. Let's say you found something out about someone. Something that wasn't exactly bad. But, obviously makes him uncomfortable, for reasons that you can now understand. Would you keep this a secret and pretend you don't know, or would you tell all of your mutual friends so you could all lovingly mock him for it?"

"What." Derek stared blankly at the younger man, trying to figure out what the fuck he was talking about. 

Isaac bit his lip, then pulled the object out from behind his back. It turned out to be some snooty fashion magazine for guys, one of several different titles Isaac tended to collect and clutter their loft with. "I know how Stiles suddenly has a lot of money at his disposal."

Eyeing the magazine curiously, Derek dared to ask, "How?"

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but he knew for damn sure that the page Isaac held up for him was certainly not it. The full page ad indeed displayed their human friend, but not in any way Derek had ever seen him before. For one thing, Derek could honestly not even recall a time he'd seen Stiles shirtless, yet there he was, dressed only in a pair of tighty whities. It was all quite artistically done, actually, in dramatic black-and-white. Stiles was standing just _slightly_ off center in a contrapposto pose, a lacrosse stick over his shoulders, held there by his arms lazily draped along its length. He had his head tilted slightly down, half in shadow, but his eyes were looking straight up at the camera and catching the light in a way that made them appear to glow. Every sports-toned muscle was highlighted by the carefully-placed lighting, and the underwear was leaving _very_ little to the imagination. 

And Derek?

Well, Derek was a born werewolf, raised amongst werewolves, and he had masterful control over his body and its reactions. He could control his breath, heart rate, and even tamp down on his arousal (a vital skill all werewolves learn in their early teens, or else risk embarrassing themselves in front of the entire family). Still, he must have done something to tip Isaac off, because the young man arched a brow at his alpha and cocked his head to the side. Perhaps, Derek realized with a mental "fuck," it was because Derek had spent far too long staring silently at the page.

Clearing his throat and raising his head in what he hoped conveyed authority, Derek said, "We shouldn't tell the others. This is Stiles' business, and it's up to him to tell."

Isaac's other brow crept up to meet its brother. "You're sure?"

"Yes." Derek nodded once, with firm assurance, and then promptly turned back around towards the door. 

"Wait, you're leaving? But you just got here," called Isaac.

"I forgot something." Something vitally important. From the magazine rack at the bookstore. 

\---------

"Derek, have you seen my latest issue of-"

"I threw it out. You had your magazines all over everything, and I was sick of it." He felt a little bad about saying that, especially in such a harsh voice, as soon as he saw Isaac turning on the sad puppy eyes. Derek fucking swore the kid was able to refine the look after hanging out with Scott. Obviously the other beta was a bad influence.

"But I hadn't even gotten to read that one, yet! Now I have to go buy another."

Heaving a massive, put upon sigh, Derek withdrew his wallet and handed Isaac some cash. Pleased that his peace offering seemed to perk the boy up, he waited until Isaac was gone before rushing up the spiral staircase to his room (Isaac's bed was the one on the main floor, you see, and Derek got the somewhat more private upper room. Because he's the alpha.). 

From beneath his bed, he withdrew the box that housed his shame. Which was really just every different magazine he could find that had ads with Stiles in them. The human had been _busy_. So far there were only a few spreads he had that were repeats, and a delightful amount of them that were unique shots. Some had Stiles in various states of partially dressed, but most of them had him in nothing more than briefs and a sultry scowl. 

Derek pulled out his favorite one, which was also the only one where Stiles happened to be smiling. It was also the issue that he'd just told Isaac he'd thrown away. Most of the supposedly trashed magazines were actually resting safely in that box. In any case, that wasn't important. What was important was that one particular ad. It was in full color, the better to show off the cherry red of the briefs, and Stiles was angled mostly away from the camera. He was leaning out of a window, the afternoon sun caressing his skin and turning pale skin gold. Biting his lip, Derek ran a finger along the arch and dip of Stiles' back, ridiculously glad that no idiot had photoshopped out all of the freckles and moles. Stiles looked as if he was chatting with someone, and had been caught in the middle of a delighted laugh. Derek swallowed hard, imagining the sound of that laugh and the way it would make Stiles' eyes scrunch up into glittery slits. 

It wasn't fair that so many others would get to see Stiles like this. Not so much in his underwear, as unguarded and happy. That was a rare thing for even his closest friends to see, and now thousands of strangers would get to see it for only the cost of a stupid fashion magazine. 

Part of Derek _hated_ that Stiles was a model, but the rest of him knew that he was going to be prowling the news stand for more tomorrow. 

\----------

"You know what's great about attending college close to home?" Stiles asked with a wide grin as he hooked an arm over Scott's shoulders. 

"Staying close to friends?" ventured Scott, grinning back and putting an arm around Stiles' shoulders in turn.

"Staying close to friends!" 

Erica laughed from where she was sitting propped against Boyd on the picnic blanket. "Stilinski, you are so drunk!"

"LIES!" cried Stiles. "This woman is spreading lies and slander! I demand recompense!"

"Can't be _that_ drunk if he's using words like 'recompense,'" muttered Derek, exchanging smirks with Boyd. 

Dragging Scott along with him, Stiles stumbled towards the blanket and pointed an accusing finger at Erica. "You are just jealous," he declared. 

She looked up at him in obvious amusement, pressing her red lips together before letting the the bubble of laughter out. "Jealous of what?"

"All this!" Stiles waved his hand around in front of himself, as a smug smile stretched his lips wide. "That I, who am one-hundred percent human, can actually feel the fun, bubbly effects of alcohol. While you," he pointed at her again, smile splitting open into a grin, "never shall. Thus. Jealous."

Rolling her eyes, Erica kicked out and nudged Stiles' leg with her foot. "Oh, you got me. I'm totally jealous that I don't become a huggy, emotional mess after having a few drinks."

"Emotional!" Stiles made an affronted sound and nearly toppled himself and Scott over as he tried to whirl around to look at his best friend while still having their arms slung over each other's shoulders. "Dude, do I get emotional? You never told me I get emotional!"

Scott looked at him in amusement, carefully steadying them both with a hand spread on Stiles' chest. Derek stared at the hand pressed there, then frowned down at his red plastic cup and turned to go refill it. "You are the epitome of stoicism," Scott assured, his tone almost believable. It must have been believable enough to Stiles, though, because he was crowing in triumph. 

Derek tried to block them all out, tried to be stoic, himself. Not that people really thought of him that way anymore. Too many years and battles and barely-gained victories to maintain that front. When he was caught crying out in rage at seeing _Allison_ of all people get hurt, Derek was pretty sure he'd lost the last of his Stoic Badass cred. 

Isaac was camped out beside the beverages, a bottle of wine mostly empty and dangling from his fingers. He barely glanced at Derek when the alpha approached to refill his cup with water. Unlike the other wolves, Derek didn't see the point in partaking of beverages that tasted sour and held no benefit. "He's in more than just the men's fashion magazines," Isaac barely even whispered, having long ago learned the art of secrecy amongst wolves. "They'll find out, soon."

"Then let them," Derek snapped, even while making sure to keep his voice pitched just as softly. Darting Isaac a sharp glare, he turned back around to rejoin the others. 

Only, he came up short as a long-fingered hand was suddenly patting his chest and then sliding up to rest warmly against his neck. "Derek!" enthused Stiles, his breath sharp with whisky. "You are looking grumpier than usual tonight. What gives? We're having a lovely outing, with everyone pretending we don't have insane amounts of coursework to have finished by Monday, and yet you're all glares and growls. It's like you've reverted to the you we first met." Stiles' lips were pulled into a pouty frown that did nothing to diminish how full and curvy they were. 

Derek swallowed and tried to step back, but Stiles' grip tightened on his neck and worked like a charm to root him to the spot. "What's wrong?" Stiles asked, quieter that time, stepping closer to create some privacy between them and only succeeding in making Derek sweat and internally panic. 

_"I've seen you practically naked!"_ a voice in Derek's head screamed. _"I know what the outline of your dick looks like, and how tight your ass is beneath those loose jeans!"_

But, on the outside, he simply stared blankly and did his best to look unconcerned. "I'm fine. Just maybe a bit distracted," he offered, knowing that Stiles wouldn't let it go if he didn't have _something_ for an excuse. 

"By what?" Stiles seemed to have moved closer, his body heat searing along Derek's front and his words ghosting across his lips like warm, whisky-scented steam. 

"Someone," Derek heard himself say. Then his eyes flew wide as he realized his slip, and he watched in muted horror as Stiles processed his words and obviously interpreted them wrong. 

"Oh." The hand on Derek's neck vanished, and Stiles was scuffling backwards with a false, tilted smile. "Well then. Sorry to interrupt."

Derek just nodded, even though he really wanted to yell "No, wait, you don't understand!" and reach out to grab Stiles and reel him back in. 

Stiles mostly avoided him for the rest of the picnic, and Derek couldn't taste any of the food due to the perpetual bitterness that lingered in his mouth. At least none of the others seemed to notice that anything was off. Though Isaac _did_ keep darting him strange little glances.

When it was finally over, and everyone was packing everything away, Stiles came up beside Derek and helped him store all the leftover drinks in the cooler. "I'm happy for you," he heard Stiles say, voice far too steady to be drunk or even tipsy. Before he could respond, Stiles was gone, helping Lydia carry the blankets back to the cars. 

\----------

"What the fuck is this!" 

Everyone's heads whipped around at Erica's shocked cry, and the entire pack watched her storm into the loft while waving what appeared to be a small poster in her hand. Scott, looking at her from where his head was resting on the back of the couch, raised his eyebrows and said, "Paper?"

"Yes, thank you, McCall. What I'm more concerned about is what's _on it_." Then she was around the couch and slamming it down on the coffee table that Stiles had insisted Derek finally get. 

Everyone fell silent for a moment, then all at once there was a rush of motion and noise. Stiles dove off the armchair to try to snatch the paper up, but Lydia was somehow quicker. Scott looked like his brain had just shut down, but Allison beside him was gasping and crying "Oh my god, Stiles!" Boyd laughed and pulled Erica onto his lap, and Isaac darted Derek worried glances.

Derek frowned, but did not move or speak.

"It's not what you think!" cried Stiles, covering his face with his hands.

Lydia hummed in a way that was nearly a purr as she held the poster away from herself to get a better look. "Oh, I think this is _exactly_ what I think it is." Derek bit his cheek and resisted the urge to growl at her and flash her a red-glowing glare.

"At least now we know how he's paying for school," said Boyd with a shrug, still mildly amused. "Hell, I'm just glad it's not drugs."

Stiles gaped at him for a moment, jaw working, before drawing back with affront. "My father is the _sheriff_! What the fuck, dude!" To which Boyd just shrugged.

"Stiles," whimpered Scott, "tell me you aren't doing porn."

"Oh, my god, Scott." Stiles huffed and covered his eyes before running his hand back through his hair and glaring at everyone present. "I'm a model, Scott. Model. Not a fucking porn star."

Having seen what was likely every printed ad thus far, Derek would almost beg to differ. There were many times when he wondered exactly what sort of message the clothing company was going for, because honestly Derek only picked up on the strong urge to rid the model of that last remaining article of clothing. He wasn't sure if they wanted him to wish he was the model, or if they wanted him to want to fuck the model. Maybe both? Whatever the individual reader took from it? Derek took the latter from it.

Lydia finally stopped hogging the poster all to herself and passed it to Allison. Derek got to see it over the girl's shoulder, and he clenched his hands into fists to resist the urge to reach out and take it. It was one he didn't have yet. Fuck, he'd never even seen one like it before! Granted, there were several where Stiles was obviously either in the processes of dressing or stripping down, but nothing so far had been like _this_.

The image had Stiles sprawled out on what appeared to be a bed, back partially propped by pillows against the headboard. He was shirtless, a pair of jeans undone and pushed low down his hips to reveal the tight briefs beneath and the half-hard cock they just barely contained. Stiles' hair had been mussed, and his lips were parted as if caught in a groan, and Derek was having a _really_ difficult time maintaining his practiced control.

"What the fuck are you modeling," asked Scott, voice choked and high, "lube?"

Derek was pretty sure he just dug claws into the palm of his own hand. His only hope was that no one would smell the--well, never mind, Isaac was totally giving him a knowing look, now.

"Underwear, genius! I model _underwear_."

"Wow, Stiles," Allison breathed, which caused Scott to squawk and quickly snatch the poster away. Derek wasn't sure he was happy or sad that he slammed it face-down onto the table.

"Do you realize those are plastered on nearly every corner around my school?" asked Erica, who seemed to have calmed down from her initial upset, and was starting to join in with Boyd and his silent amusement.

Stiles looked up at her with wide, haunted eyes. "No," he whimpered. "Please tell me you're joking."

"Where do you think I got that?" she asked, tipping her head towards the offending paper.

"Shit."

Derek whole-heartedly agreed with the sentiment.

\---------

Gnawing on his lip, Derek pulled out his phone and wondered for the upteenth time if he should call or text Stiles. He wasn't sure he quite agreed with Isaac's plan to just "pop in on him" on campus after his last class for the day. Ever since deducing Derek's true feelings (or at least part of them), Isaac had just been chock full of advice. "You should smile at him more," he'd said. "Go out of your way to show him you think he's special. Maybe get him his favorite food or buy him flowers or something."

Derek wasn't going to buy him flowers. For fuck's sake.

But, Derek _had_ been talked into a spontaneous visit to Stiles' campus, with the intention of taking the young man out to dinner. When Isaac was talking about it, it all seemed so simple and easy. As soon as Derek had pulled up to the college, however, he'd already started to second guess the entire idea. What if Stiles had plans? What if Stiles was already seeing someone? What if Stiles just wasn't interested? Derek wasn't sure which option would be worse.

He wandered a bit aimlessly, flipping his phone around anxiously in one hand, and wondered exactly where he was supposed to find the ridiculous human. His question was answered when he caught the distinctive scent on a breeze, followed shortly by a familiar voice hissing "What the fuck did I stipulate when I started? What's the point of stipulations if they aren't heeded?"

"Calm down," crooned an unfamiliar male voice that instantly had Derek's hackles raised. "I fail to see how this is any different than having your picture plastered in every male-targeted magazine in the country. And abroad."

"My friends found out!" Stiles cried, voice harsh with outrage. Derek quickened his pace towards the source of the sound.

"Why are you so ashamed of your work, Stiles? You're amazing at it, kid. A natural."

"My best friend thought I was a fucking _porn star_. And that was from looking at the poster that's the central focus of our current conversation. Jesus!"

Turning down a path that snaked around a small pond, Derek found Stiles standing beside a bench, arguing with an older man in a pinstriped suit. He squared his shoulders and prepared himself to act the proper alpha and save his human beta from distress. "Everything okay?" he asked Stiles, trying to pitch his voice low and gruff, but knowing he'd failed as soon as he'd said it. His voice could never get as deep as Stiles', despite _Derek_ being the one who literally growled on a regular basis.

Both men turned to him in two variants of surprise. Stiles was obviously shocked to see him there at the school without warning, and the suited guy just looked stunned. "Derek? Is there, like, an emergency or something?" Frowning in confusion, Stiles reached into his back pocket for his phone and checked to make sure it was functioning. Derek mentally kicked himself for not at least texting ahead of time.

"You _know_ this guy?" asked the suited man, eyebrows disappearing beneath the fringe of an expensive haircut. 

Stiles gave a negligent shrug as he clicked through his recent texts and missed calls. "Yeah. This is Derek. Derek, this is Mitch, my agent. For now."

"Hey," objected Mitch, turning to give Stiles a disapproving frown. "Don't be like that. If you're really upset about the posters, I can try to get them taken down. But, Stiles, man, seriously, think about all the extra money you made from that campaign." 

"It was a good campaign." It took both of the humans turning towards him in silent surprise for Derek to realize those words had come from his mouth. "Um. I mean, it was effective."

"Oh?" scoffed Stiles, crossing his arms and giving Derek the most skeptical of looks. "Did they make you go out and buy that brand of underwear?"

As a matter of fact, it had. Well, not just _that_ ad. Derek had actually gone out and acquired that brand fairly early on after discovering Stiles' not-so-secret secret job. Something must have shown on his face, because Stiles' mouth was falling open in incredulity while Mitch's eyes gleamed and his grin became reminiscent of a shark's. Mitch's eyes roamed hungrily over Derek and he dared to take a few steps closer, completely ignoring Derek's sudden glare or Stiles' warning of "Noooo, no no no. No."

"Derek, you ever consider modeling?"

He hadn't.

"The same company has been asking me for an older model, with a bit more muscle and a more rugged appearance. You'd be _perfect_." Mitch must have seen the objection forming in Derek's eyes, because his slimy smile grew even wider as he added, "They're evidently planning a shoot containing Stiles and whoever I find to be our rugged guy. You'd be working right alongside Stiles."

\----------

"I still can't believe you agreed to do this," grumbled Stiles from his make-up chair beside Derek's own. 

Derek tried to hold still, as his stylist instructed, while he responded, "Aren't you always on my case about getting a job?"

"So you take my advice _now_? With _this_?" Stiles turned to look at him, completely ignoring the older woman hissing at him to hold the fuck still. "What the shit, dude?"

"Why not?" retorted Derek, who would have shrugged if not for his stylist giving him a stern, warning look.

Stiles evidently didn't have a response to that, and an awkward silence fell over them while their hair and make-up was finished. As soon as they were released from their chairs, Stiles was out and on his way to change into his designated underwear. Derek watched him go with a sigh, then slowly rose to do the same. 

It was weird to just walk out of his dressing room in only the underwear, and Derek stared at his jeans for a hesitant moment as he debated on whether or not he should put them back on. What was proper underwear model etiquette? Grabbing his phone, he texted Stiles to ask. Barely a moment later, and Stiles was knocking at his door. "Are you fucking kidding me, Hale? If you're too shy to walk around in your undies, how do you expect to get your photo taken in them?"

Derek huffed and jerked the door open so fast that Stiles nearly tumbled inside. He reached an arm out reflexively, gripping Stiles on the shoulder to steady him. On the bare shoulder. Because most of Stiles was bare. Well _fuck_. 

Very quickly Derek was learning that there was a considerable difference between seeing photos of Stiles mostly nude and experiencing it in the flesh. Flesh! So much flesh! And it was warm beneath his palm. Which was still holding Stiles' shoulder. He should...probably let go. Yes. That was the proper thing to do. Jerking his hand back, Derek cleared his throat and crossed his arms. "I'm not shy," he insisted. "I just didn't want to be rude." 

Stiles was very pointedly only staring at Derek's face, and his lips were pressed into a tight line. "Good," he said quickly, nodding a bit and staring at something over Derek's shoulder. "Great. That's good to know. And I see you're already in your...er...outfit. So, we should head out there now and get oiled up and then get started."

"Oiled. Up?" Derek did not keep his eyes above Stiles' shoulders, mostly because he couldn't restrain himself enough to. He figured it would be fine, since Stiles wasn't even looking at him, so wouldn't catch his wandering gaze. In the stark florescent lighting, Derek could clearly see that there was indeed a bit of a difference between the soft, matte texture of Stiles skin in front of him as opposed to the smooth slickness of his skin in most of the photos. So, the secret was oil. Rubbed all over Stiles' body. Derek's hands twitched at his sides as he secretly hoped they had to oil each other up instead some random stranger performing the task.

It was a random stranger.

Derek glared at the woman rubbing the oil onto Stiles' torso, barely registering the hands that were working it onto his own. Stiles had his eyes closed and an expression on his face that indicated he was getting at least a little enjoyment from the attention. Maybe it was like getting a massage for him. Trying to focus a bit on the way it felt for him, Derek supposed it was similar enough. 

Still, if given the chance, he'd show Stiles what it was like to receive a _proper_ massage. He'd get Stiles to lay out on the bed, then climb up to straddle those narrow hips. Maybe slip back a bit so that he was sitting on Stiles' strong upper thighs, so that he could press himself against that pert ass whenever he leaned forward. Derek wouldn't use whatever this oil was, which smelled plastic and artificial. No, he'd get something natural, herbal, that had a dark, musky scent.

Aaaaaaand, Derek _really_ needed to curb his fantasies, because he was standing in nothing but tight black boxer-briefs, in the middle of a room full of people. 

"We'll be doing some individual shots, first," said Julian, the stylish photographer with dark mocha skin and minty eyes, as if he was more an expensive Starbucks drink than a man. He had a thick English accent and a charming smile, and Stiles seemed to like him. Derek hated him.

"Stiles, since you appear to be ready, you'll go first. Marcelle, make sure you get Derek's arms and legs, too, yeah? Make all those muscles shine." Julian flashed them a grin filled with perfect, bleach-white teeth and then wandered off towards the set. Stiles had bolted as soon as his name was called, and was already getting into position beneath the bright lights.

It took every scrap of Derek's fraying self-control to remain outwardly unaffected as he watched Stiles joke around with Julian. Stiles kept plucking at the broad elastic band of his briefs, his long fingers either tugging them up or down as Julian gave him different directions. Julian ultimately had Stiles lean back against the blank, white wall, one arm pulled up to cushion his head. His other hand slid slowly down his hip and thigh, catching the elastic with his thumb and dragging the underwear down until it was barely providing any coverage at all. 

"I have to go." Derek snapped suddenly at Marcelle, causing her to jump back and hold her oil-glistening hands up in alarm. 

"But," she stuttered, looking from her hands to his arm. "I'm not done."

"I have to," he glanced quickly at Stiles, then away again, "use the bathroom. I'll be right back."

Marcelle had been a bit too liberal with the body oil, but Derek couldn't complain once he found out that it felt fucking amazing when he wiped the excess off his body and slid it along his cock. It was embarrassing how quickly he was done, but he honestly wasn't surprised. All he had to do was think about what he'd just seen, and continue the scene with himself on his knees in front of Stiles, mouthing at the fabric still partially over Stiles' dick while the younger man teased him with the promise of revealing more. Stiles would groan and tip his head back once Derek's patience wore thin and he'd slid his hands up Stiles' long legs to finish tugging down the offending garment. Then there would be nothing between Derek's hungry mouth and Stiles' gorgeous flesh.

When Derek reemerged, Stiles was thankfully no longer looking like the porn star he claimed not to be, and was over by the craft table crunching some celery as he laughed and joked with some of the crew. Marcelle ran over to Derek and finished her rub-down in what had to be record time, darting away again just as Julian wandered over. The photographer had his head tipped down over his camera as he reviewed some of the shots he just took, and barely glanced up at Derek. "You ready?" he asked, smiling despite being somewhat distracted. Derek nodded.

Once they made it over to the set, Julian motioned for a crew member to drag over a large wooden chair, then nodded for Derek to have a seat. "Good," he said approvingly as soon as Derek sank down into it. "Lean back a bit more. Right, like that, now shift your hips forward. That's great. You're doing great. Maybe hook your left leg up over the arm. _Perfect_."

Over near the craft table, someone suddenly choked and started coughing, followed quickly by people issuing up concerned words and what sounded like a few hearty smacks to the back. "I'm fine," Stiles wheezed once the coughing was mostly cleared up. "My water just went down the wrong tube, that's all. I'm okay."

"You look too stiff," chided Julian. "If you're worried about Stiles, don't be; he seems fine. Relax. Shift your shoulders back. That's right. Now look right at me like you want to fuck me." Derek tried, but he didn't really want to fuck Julian. Tsking, Julian looked up from the camera. "You look like the sort of bloke who can smolder, Derek, so smolder at me. C'mon."

They tried it a few more times and failed, before Julian said maybe Derek needed to stare off to the side, instead, and try to think of someone he _does_ want to fuck. Instantly Derek's eyes found and latched onto Stiles, across the large room and chatting with the stylists. One of the women was laughing and showing them something on her phone, and then Stiles was insisting he could do that, too. Suddenly Stiles was twerking. Actually. Fucking. Twerking. In nothing but a pair of stylish briefs.

"Oh, Derek, there we go. Whatever you're thinking of, man, keep thinking it. That expression is pure fucking heat! You just lit this ad on _fire_!"

Derek couldn't help the little up-thrust his hips did as he watched Stiles' ass, or the growl he barely swallowed back. Closing his eyes to the sight, he leaned his head back, baring his throat to the camera as he imagined it was to Stiles. Imagined Stiles climbing on top of him in that chair and-

"Ho-ly shit, Derek, I think that's enough. Keep that up, and we'll be crossing that line from art to porn." Derek slowly blinked his eyes open to see Julian staring agape at him over his camera. "Stiles," Julian called, even though his pale eyes were still firmly fixed to Derek's sprawled form, "c'mere and let's start the next set."

"Yeah, boss? Oh, holy god." As soon as Stiles had made it to the set, he turned on his heel and started walking away. "I can't right now. Bathroom. I have to pee. Yes. Too much water. Be right back."

Shrugging, Julian finally turned away from Derek to locate one of the crew members. "Are the other models here and ready?" he asked, which had Derek's head whipping around to face him in alarm.

"What other models?" Derek asked over whatever the crew member was about to say. 

Julian turned back to Derek and arched a perfectly-sculpted brow. "The girls. For the group shots. You and Stiles will be standing, with the girls wrapped around you from behind, their hands all over you. It'll be fun and sexy, you'll see."

The girls were also only in underwear, panties and bras which Derek assumed were part of the designer's women's line. Derek frowned at them, thinking about one of them running her hands all over Stiles and pressing her pert breasts up against his bare back. A heavy, slimy thing began to thrash and roil deep in his gut, and Derek was torn between lashing out and being sick. 

When Stiles finally got back from the restroom, he seemed just as shocked as Derek to see the addition of the women. Interestingly enough, he did not seem pleased, if the thin press of his lips was any indication. The men let Julian maneuver them into position, and then the women slid in behind them and proceeded to act as if they were absolutely enthralled with the guys. Despite Julian's constant directions, Derek just stood there awkwardly and tried to block out the view in his peripheral of the girl at Stiles' back slipping her fingers into the elastic waistband. 

Finally Julian gave up with an aggravated huff, commanding everyone apart with a wave of his hand. He stood back from the scene, considering them all from various angles. "You know," he eventually mused, fingers toying with the beard of his goatee and his head cocked a bit to the side, "maybe it's time we move forward. Be more progressive."

Derek gulped.

"Stiles," said Julian, a slow smile spreading across his lips like honey, "I want you to take Janette's place behind Derek. Janette, you stand behind Steph."

"Um." Stiles took a step closer to Derek, hesitated, bit his lip, and glanced back at Julian. "Are you sure, man? I mean, like, I'm all for progress. And, you know, it's not like I'm against the message, because all genders are hot in my eyes, but maybe you should, like, check with the company first or something?"

"The company will love it. They've already run similar ads in Europe." 

"Oh." Stiles hesitated for another moment before nodding decisively and closing the distance between him and Derek. As he moved to step behind the alpha, he whispered, "Don't kill me, dude; this is just business."

"Derek," snapped Julian, "don't look like you're at a fucking wake. A hot young man is about to get his hands all over you. Show me some of that smolder from earlier."

"Fuck, I am _so sorry_ ," Stiles continued to whisper, and his hands trembled a bit as they slowly rose to rest awkwardly on Derek's biceps. 

Julian made a shocked sound of disbelief. "Stiles, the hell is wrong? You've never looked nervous like this. C'mon, show us the pro that we all know you are. Remember how Steph had her hands on you? Can you replicate that with Derek?"

Derek thought about the way the girl's fingers had dipped into Stiles' briefs, and just the _thought_ of Stiles replicating that on Derek's body had him fighting not to get hard. 

"There we go!" cheered Julian, accompanied by the rapid clicking of his camera's shutter. "Derek's starting to finally get it. Good. Now we just need you to catch up, Stiles."

"Catch up," Stiles grumbled under his breath, "I'll fucking show you _catch up_." And then suddenly Stiles' hands were _all over_ Derek. They slid along his ribs and abs and pecs and up and down his neck and collarbone. Stiles was shifting from one side to the other, angled so that Julian would be able to catch shots of his briefs as well as Derek's boxer-briefs. Derek turned his head to watch him, and was shocked by the heated look he saw directed right at him. "I know you've got someone," Stiles whispered even as his fingers teased along the V of Derek's hips, "but this is just business. If it helps, you can pretend I'm her. Even close your eyes if you have to."

Maybe it _was_ all just an act to Stiles, but Derek found that hard to believe. He could hear the boy's heart racing, smell his nervousness and arousal, see the way his pupils were so dilated that the iris was reduced to a thin strip of brown. "I don't have to pretend," he murmured back, turning in Stiles' arms so that they were pressed tight along their fronts. He felt Stiles half-hard against his thigh, and he rocked his hips encouragingly. "He's right here."

"Oh _fuck_ ," gasped Stiles, hands no longer quite so fluid and sensual as they scrabbled desperately at Derek's slick back. "Seriously?"

In answer, Derek leaned in and captured those parted lips with his own, nipping at them and soothing with his tongue before delving deeper and coaxing Stiles into finally kissing back. They kissed and touched, hands trespassing where they never dreamed to tread, fingers tugging playfully at elastic waistbands or slipping beneath soft fabric. 

"Guys," Julian's voice called out, piercing their little bubble of pretend privacy. "As fucking _amazing_ as it is to watch you two nearly screw right in front of us, could you maybe take it elsewhere? I got all the shots of you two that I need for the day. You're free to go."

Derek started to pull away, but Stiles' desperate grip stilled him. Stiles bit his lip and glanced down between them, then raised his eyebrows pointedly. Being the good, responsible alpha that he was, Derek gave a reassuring nod and turned his head to locate and catch the attention of a crew member. "Could you find us a couple of robes?"

Once modestly covered, the two of them made their ways back towards the dressing rooms. Stiles reached out and snatched something off a table as they passed, and casually proceeded to follow Derek into his dressing room instead of going to his own. Before Derek could open his mouth to ask, Stiles was kissing him soundly and walking him backwards towards the lone piece of furniture in the tiny room, a low-standing bench. 

"You live in a loft," said Stiles, breaking away from the kiss to push Derek down onto the bench, "with another person. Your bedroom lacks walls." He knelt down between Derek's legs and impatiently untied the robe, pushing it down Derek's shoulders. "I live at my dad's. Which, while my room _does_ have walls, I'm not too keen to want to bring people there to fuck." Stiles' fingernails scraped a bit at Derek's skin as he hooked his fingers in the elastic of the boxer-briefs and proceeded to tug them down and off. 

"We could go to a hotel, or I could text Isaac and tell him to make himself scarce for a while," Derek offered, already panting like humans do after running a mile. 

Stiles gave him one more deep, hungry kiss, before bending lower to run his lips and tongue the entire length of Derek's torso. "Later," he said against Derek's trembling abs. "Right now I don't have the patience to wait."

"Later," Derek agreed, nodding his head and watching in wonder as Stiles parted his obscenely gorgeous lips to wrap them around Derek's dick. "Christ."

Humming in pleasure, Stiles' mouth sank lower, his hands sliding up the insides of Derek's thighs. As he proceeded to work Derek with tongue and lips and tight, perfect suction, Stiles fished something out of the pocket of his robe. Derek smelled the plastic aroma of the body oil, then cursed and spread his legs wider as Stiles pressed at his hole. He tried to keep his eyes open, to watch what was happening, what _Stiles_ was doing to him, but the sight and feel were too potent of a combination. "Come on," he encouraged, voice scraped raw so that for once he actually had the deep, rough timbre he'd always strived for. 

Stiles pulled his fingers free and slicked himself with more of the oil. He moved his mouth off of Derek's dick and pressed his cheek to the inside of Derek's thigh, looking up at him with unadulterated _want_ as he slowly stroked himself. "Just so we're clear," he said, tilting his face a bit so that he could mouth at Derek's skin, "this isn't a one-time thing."

"Sure as hell better not be."

Smiling, Stiles nipped at Derek's thigh. "And when we get back to your place, you're going to fuck me."

"I'll fuck you now, if you don't get your dick in me within the next five seconds."

That surprised a bark of laughter out of Stiles, and he scooted back and away from Derek and the bench. "Then hurry up and turn around," he commanded around a wide grin. Derek slid off the bench and onto his knees, then turned and bent himself over to the bench, arching his back in a way that he knew would present his ass just right. He was pleased to hear Stiles issue forth a string of indecipherable cursing. He was even more pleased to feel Stiles' dick pressing against him, then slowly sliding in. 

The body oil was slick, but it wasn't too thick, so that Derek could feel the perfect drag of Stiles' cock moving in and out, causing him to grunt in appreciation and toss his head back. Stiles wrapped his fingers in Derek's hair and held fast as he fucked into him, shifting his hips until he heard Derek gasp and felt him shudder. "That the spot?" Stiles rasped as he rolled his hips just right to strike it again and again. "That where you want me?" 

Derek couldn't form the words to reply but he let his choked-off moans and desperate counter-press of his hips speak for him. The tiny room was rapidly becoming hot and stifling, and it made the air nearly too thick to breathe. Beneath his hands, the wood of the bench cracked, and Stiles was all but snarling at his back, and Derek swallowed back his cry as he came. 

Slowly the hand in his hair released him, short nails scraping soothingly at his scalp before that hand slid down his neck and gripped his shoulder. Stiles kept fucking, his pace quicker now, less precise in its desperation. When he came, he was bent low over Derek's back, lips scraping at the nape of his neck as his gasping breaths sent pleasant chills down Derek's spine. They rocked together afterwards, both of them trying to regain their composure and the ability to move their limbs.

"I might need a while before we do the encore," admitted Stiles as he carefully slid out and sat down on the floor with his legs sprawled out in front of him. "Honestly, I already had to jerk off earlier, after I saw you in that chair. I'm not sixteen anymore, ya know...there's only so many times I can get it up within a certain time period."

Derek smirked as he rose to his feet and moved towards his clothes. "We've got plenty of time."

\---------

"Oh, my god, I hate you both so much," declared Scott as he stormed into the pack meeting and threw a magazine down onto the coffee table. 

Lydia again was the quickest, and instead of fighting her for it, Allison just moved to sit beside her friend so they could stare at it together. Derek didn't need to see it. Julian had been kind enough to send him a disc with all of the photos from the shoot, so he didn't really care which was the one finally chosen. Stiles didn't seem to care much, either, since he just gave Scott a shit eating grin before taking a seat right in Derek's lap.

Isaac just sighed and leaned towards Derek and Stiles' chair. "So, does this mean you'll stop stealing all my magazines, finally?"

Neither confirming nor denying, Derek slipped an arm around Stiles and hid a rare, genuine smile against his human's shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> Hit me up on tumblr, under [cursedtruth](http://cursedtruth.tumblr.com). Ok, love you, buh-bye!


End file.
